The Survivor and The Saviour
by Rosibo
Summary: Spoilers for 4x22. Picks up immediately after the season 4 finale. Angsty and fluffy! This is basically some closure, because four months of angst until season 5 is too much pain.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey people! I don't normally write for this fandom, generally sticking to the Walking Dead recently, but I've done this little fic because the season 4 finale KILLED ME, and I can't wait four months to find out what happens! Basically, I need some kind of closure…you got me, this is my form of therapy, but I figured I'd share this for others in the same boat.**

 **Spoilers obviously up to the season 4 finale. In no way do I think this is what the writers will do with our lovely characters…for one thing, there's just so much potential with Dark Emma! But I needed some kind of reunion, and fast, because Killian!**

 **There will be two more chapters after this, and I'll try and get one up each day!**

 **Enjoy, and leave a review if you feel so inclined (please xxx).**

 **The Survivor and The Saviour**

Chapter 1

The clatter of the dagger falling to the floor, as Emma's form disappeared in the cloud of black smoke, was followed by the thump of Killian's knees hitting the concrete as he felt all of the strength sucked from him. He barely registered the pain in his kneecaps, and his arms fell dejectedly to his sides, his eyes never leaving the shining, silver blade. It was too far away from him to be able to read the inscription, but he knew what was written across the metal; it was a name he was all too familiar with. One that he could feel etched into his heart, and could hear with every pulse of blood through his veins.

She had been there. In that other world he'd died to save her, despite not truly knowing who she was. It seemed that, although the author could take his memories, he could never touch the love he felt for her. He'd known her the very second he had seen her; had felt her right there, right inside his chest, always with him. So he had died for her, and then he'd found her again, and he had let himself believe that was it: the fight was over. She had been about to tell him she loved him, up there on her bed in the loft. He knew without a doubt that's what she had been about to say; she was an open book after all. So it didn't really even matter when she hadn't been able to say it.

But then she had. Just seconds ago, knowing she may never get the chance again, she had said it. _I love you._ She had said it, and he should have been the happiest man alive. But he wasn't, because then she had pushed him back, and she was gone. Just like that, she had left him, as a tangling blackness pulled her from his view, leaving only that bloody dagger in her wake.

A sob to his right brought him back to the present, as the ringing in his ears subsided. He pushed himself to his feet, needing to distance himself from the piercing sound of Emma's distraught mother. He needed to get away from here, from all of them, but he couldn't pull his eyes away from the dagger. He found his feet taking him towards the offending weapon against his will, and before he could register the action, he had crouched beside it and lifted it into his hand.

 _Emma Swan._

It was right there across the blade, just as he'd known it would be, in curling black calligraphy. And suddenly, the feeling of total loss he'd been drowning in morphed into anger, as his fist clenched tightly around the handle. He could feel himself shaking, his breathing short and erratic, his jaw clenched so tight that it sent an ache rippling through his entire skull.

And then he felt a solid hand on his shoulder. And the red fog cleared as the touch grounded him back to Earth.

"Come on," David said to him softly, his hand squeezing Killian's shoulder ever so slightly, "Let's go talk to the Apprentice. Maybe he'll have some answers."

Killian swallowed thickly, forcing back the angry tears that he hadn't realised had pooled in his eyes, before pushing himself to his feet once again. David's hand fell from Killian's shoulder, as he stepped back to pull his sobbing wife to her feet.

Just then, he heard quick footsteps from a little way down the street as Henry appeared from Granny's diner.

"What's going on?" the boy asked, "Where's my Mom?"

Killian couldn't bring himself to look at the boy. In fact, he couldn't draw his eyes away from the swirling letters on the dagger he still held. But he half heard as Regina explained to Henry what had happened.

He followed silently as they made their way back to Gold's shop, where the Apprentice now sat upon the bed, weak, but alive.

"What happened?" he asked.

"It took Emma," David said, clutching Snow against his side.

"Curious," the Apprentice said, almost to himself, "the Dark One is most powerful in a host with a strong propensity for darkness. Emma's darkness was removed before birth. I am surprised it didn't choose Regina."

"It did," Regina spoke up, "Emma…saved me. She took the darkness into herself."

Killian could hear the genuine guilt in the woman's voice, and he couldn't find it in himself to blame her for what had happened, as much as he wanted to find someone, _anyone,_ to blame.

"I see. She is truly living up to her 'saviour' title," the Apprentice answered thoughtfully, "where is she now?"

"She disappeared," Regina continued, "the blackness engulfed her, and she was just gone. All that's left is the dagger."

Regina gestured for Killian to hand over the aforementioned weapon, and he woke from his silent stupor. He stepped forward, but found himself reluctant to release his hold on it; as if it were the one thing he had tethering him to Emma. With a gulp and a sharp breath, he forced himself to release it, handing it over to the old man, who turned it over in his hands several times.

"Where do you think she is?" Henry asked.

"Can we use the dagger to summon her?" David asked.

"That won't work if she's not in Storybrooke," Regina answered.

"I believe she is still here," the Apprentice told them, holding the dagger out in front of him, "and there's only one way to be sure. Dark One, I summon thee."

* * *

As she thrust the dagger out, forcing it into the tangle of black tentacles that swirled around Regina, she felt a coldness like no other. It started at her fingers that were clenched tightly around the handle, and spread with each swirl of dark smoke, crawling up her arm and further still. It squeezed and pulled at her, like sharp, icy fingers clutching at her skin and bones. The light from the streetlamps dimmed as the blackness swirled around her head, screeching like a banshee in her ears and sucking the oxygen from the air around her. She could just make out her family past the ever-thickening smoke obscuring most of her vision. But she could see Killian's eyes, blue and shining as he gazed at her imploringly. The devastation in his face and his posture filled her with a guilt so intense that she felt physically sick. But she had to do this. There was no other way.

She wanted to tell him she was sorry. Sorry she was taking away his happy ending. Sorry that he had to fall for her. She was supposed to be the saviour, but she couldn't save him from this. And most of all, she was sorry she had waited so long to tell him she loved him. Because she did. _So_ much. And it had terrified her, because she had never felt love like that before. He and Henry were everything to her.

 _Henry._

Oh God. They were going to have to tell Henry what she'd done, and she couldn't even tell him how sorry she was for this. If she survived this, maybe then she could tell him. But that was a big if. Even if she did survive, she'd never be the same. Who knew what this darkness was about to do to her? She could hurt them all. She'd be dangerous. No, she couldn't let that happen. She needed to get away from this place. Now.

As the blackness around her became too thick to see anything, and Killian's face disappeared completely from her view, she knew she what she had to do. She'd never used her magic to teleport before, but she could already feel the blackness taking over her body, and she knew she had to try before it reached her mind. Her eyes fell on the dagger in her hand, and she felt the darkness inside lurch, as if reaching out for it hungrily, telling her to keep it.

With one last burst of energy, she threw it down in defiance, knowing that once she'd changed, her family needed the dagger to be safe from her. And then she closed her eyes, and focussed everything she had on getting away from this place.

She felt a _whoosh_ , and a strange pressure upon her bones. Then she felt weightless, like she was falling, until she landed with a _thud_ on the forest floor _._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Dark One, I summon thee."

The tension in the room coiled tighter as they waited. Killian felt his teeth might break with how tightly he clenched his jaw in the silence. And then suddenly all their eyes were lifted in his direction, only they were focussed on a spot behind him.

"Killian?" a trembling voice called from behind him.

As realisation hit, he whirled around sharply, and came face to face with Emma. His breath stilled in his lungs as he took her in. She looked no different than she had a few minutes ago, when she'd pulled him to her and told him she loved him.

She was there, breathing quickly, eyes wide and panicked.

"Emma," he whispered, letting out a relieved breath.

He took a step towards her, but she held her hands out in front of her.

"No, don't come any closer," she said quickly, voice thick with sadness and fear.

"But…" he started, reaching his hand towards her.

Suddenly, she cried out, doubling over and clutching at her abdomen as he took a startled step back. She remained there, stock still, body folded over on itself shielding her face from view.

"Swan?" he managed to force out quietly, uncertainty thick in his hoarse voice.

Her head lifted slowly, the blanket of her hair falling away as she lifted her gaze to meet his.

Her face was expressionless, hard, her posture remained curled over on herself slightly, like a caged animal ready to strike the moment it was free. But it was her eyes that sent an icy shard of fear through his heart. Her irises were their normal shade of green, but they were ringed with blood red, which seemed to glow unnaturally. Her gazed pierced through him, freezing his blood in his veins.

"Emma?" he whispered, voice laced with shock, and just a hint of quiet resignation.

"Give me the dagger," she said stoically. It was Emma's voice, but with something else. Or maybe it lacked something. Warmth?

"Emma, it's…" Killian started.

"I said," she said louder this time, a hint of a growl in her tone, "give me the dagger."

Each word dripped off her tongue like poison, and he found himself recoiling slightly.

"No," the Apprentice answered firmly from behind Killian.

Her eyes flashed dangerously, her arms lifting by her sides as if to strike. Then as quickly as she had before, she doubled over again with a cry.

Her head lifted quickly this time, and Killian could see it was his Emma again, the red gone from her eyes and replaced by absolute terror.

"Killian," she whispered quietly, panic in her tone, "What's happening to me?"

Her arms curled protectively around her body as she stared helplessly into his eyes. He felt completely helpless himself, his hand clenched into a fist at his side as he tried to comfort her through his gaze alone.

"It's the Dark One," the Apprentice began to explain, "Your light magic is stopping the darkness from taking over. Dark and light magic can never become one; there's a battle for dominance."

In an instant, the red rings appeared around Emma's irises with a flash, as her face contorted into a smirk.

"And I will win," she snarled menacingly.

Killian felt that chill ripple through him again as her eyes bore into his, before she straightened, and disappeared in a cloud of grey smoke, leaving him staring at the wall behind where she had stood.

They stood in silence for a moment, an atmosphere of shock bearing down upon them all, before Henry started to speak.

"What's going to happen to her?" he asked quietly.

"The Dark One works by finding the darkness inside you and threading itself into it," the Apprentice explained. "When Rumplestiltskin became the Dark One, it found the selfishness and jealousy that had always been there when he was just a man. He was weak. The darkness took over his soul easily. But Emma…not only has she her own magic of the lightest kind, but her potential for darkness was removed before she was even born into this world. There is no darkness within her for it to latch onto."

"So what does that mean?" Regina asked.

"Light and dark may never exist side by side. One cannot survive while the other does. Emma must fight the Dark One. And whoever loses will be destroyed. Forever. If Emma's light magic wins then the Dark One will be gone forever. But if the Dark One wins…"

"Emma dies," David finished.

"Emma's soul dies," the Apprentice corrected, "but the Dark One may be able to take over her body. Everything of the Emma you know will be gone, but the Dark One will remain."

"What can we do?" Killian asked, frustration and fear bubbling into his voice.

"Nothing. We can only wait and see who wins, and it's only a matter of time before someone does. In the meantime, she is the most dangerous being ever to have existed," the Apprentice told him, standing from the bed and stepping carefully towards the pirate and holding the dagger out to him, "keep the dagger close. No matter what, don't let her have it."

"Why? What happens if she gets the dagger?" he asked.

"It is the Dark One's source of power. It may make it stronger," the old man answered, before continuing, "and if it does destroy her, the dagger is the only thing that can protect us from it."

* * *

They sat in near-silence in the loft, with just the sound of baby Neal fussing quietly as Snow rocked him gently in her arms to break the tension. David busied himself making drinks in the kitchen while Henry paced restlessly around the room. Killian could feel Regina and Robin's eyes on him as he sat alone on the couch, staring at the dagger resting in his lap.

He hadn't said a word since they'd left Mr Gold's shop, and he knew it was making the others uncomfortable. But he couldn't bring himself to care.

He didn't look up as he felt Henry plop down beside him, until he felt the boy's arm fall across his shoulder, and he found his eyes lifting to the side to make contact.

"She's gonna be OK," Henry said, with that endearing confidence, "she's strong. She can win."

Killian gulped, remaining completely unconvinced by Henry's words. But the look in the boy's eyes was begging for some confirmation; some shred of hope or belief that he could latch onto, and Killian couldn't refuse him that.

"Aye, lad," he answered, unable to keep the sadness from his voice as he tried, unsuccessfully, to force some conviction into his tone, "that she is."

Henry smiled encouragingly, and it cut Killian right to the core. He suddenly found himself unable to breathe as the air around him hung heavy and the room became stifling. He quickly jumped to his feet, dagger still in hand, before heading for the door.

"Wait, where are you going? I'll come with you," Henry asked, standing up and taking a step to follow the pirate.

"No, stay here, Henry," he said, barely turning around to look at the boy, "I just need some air. I'll be at the docks."

Before anyone could argue, he had flung the front door open and quickly stepped through, pulling it swiftly closed behind him.

The walk to the docks seemed to take forever, and he found himself speeding up to a run. He didn't know why he needed to get there so desperately, but he craved the comfort of his ship.

He didn't stop running as he travelled up the boarding plank and onto the deck, nearly jumping down the steps into his quarters. He stopped still in the centre of the room, breathing heavily and hands shaking as he looked about himself. He had hoped the feeling of safety and home that the ship always gave him would be enough to calm his nerves some, but he found that it had no such effect right now.

He felt dizzy and light-headed, and with something that resembled a sob, he collapsed backwards onto the edge of his bed, head falling forwards to rest on his knees as he clutched the dagger to his chest. He could feel the hot tears burning behind his eyes, but he refused to let them fall as he scrunched his face up. His body was so tense, he felt he might snap at any moment, and his fingers ached from their hold around the hilt of the dagger.

He closed his eyes and fought to control his breathing, swallowing the bile that seemed to have risen in his throat. As he felt himself slowly regain control, he placed the dagger beside him and reached into his jacket to pull out his flask, popping the cork and taking a deep swig. As expected, the burn of the rum as it trickled down his oesophagus helped to centre him.

With one more gulp, he replaced the flask back into his pocket, and leaned back to lie on his bed.

With his hooked arm resting behind his head, he held the dagger above him, turning it over this way and that, repeating the inscribed name over and over in his head like a chant.

It felt like hours passed, and he could see the first rays of sun beginning to fall upon the deck of the ship. He realised he hadn't slept all night, and he imagined that none of the others had either.

The thought had started as just a tiny scrap of an idea some hours ago; the thought that maybe he could summon her here. He had tried to shrug the urge off, but with each passing minute it grew steadily. And as time went on, the more he wanted to do it. It was killing him, not knowing what was happening. Was she winning? Or not? She could be dying this very moment, alone and terrified. At least if he called her to him, she wouldn't have to be alone. And if she lost, and the Dark One killed him, so what? She was all he had to live for anyway.

With that thought, he repeated the words he'd heard the Apprentice utter earlier.

"Dark One, I summon thee," he said clearly, though his voice sounded hoarse and tired.

He sat up straight and got to his feet as she appeared across the room. A pang of fear shot through him as he noticed that sickening red ring around her irises, and the thinly veiled smirk on her lips.

"What can I do for you, Captain?" she drawled, eyes flashing with something akin to humour.

"Leave Emma be," he says, trying to sound stern through the shake in his voice "leave her. Take me instead."

"I'm afraid I can't do that. Once I'm in a host, I'm there until they die," her voice answered, almost gleefully.

"Unless her light magic destroys you."

"How do you know that I haven't already won?" she answered, her eyebrows curled up questioningly.

Killian balked, jaw clenching as he considered her words for a moment. His eyes bore into hers, and as his thoughts ticked over in his head, he remembered that feeling in his chest. The one he'd had in that alternative world. The one that said she was there, in his heart, rushing through his veins.

"No, she's still in there. I can feel it," he answered.

"How romantic," she snarled mockingly.

"She won't give up without a fight," Killian stated, more for his own benefit than anything else.

"Oh, I know. Feisty isn't she? But you know that better than anyone, don't you, _Killian."_ She drawled, his name sounding sickly and poisonous as it dripped off her tongue venomously.

Killian snarled, eliciting a sly smirk from the Dark One.

"She's in pain, you know," she whispered, eyes glinting insidiously.

That hit him hard, somewhere underneath his ribcage he felt a sharp pang of something…guilt? Fear? He swallowed thickly, trying his best to hold his composure as the dark one continued.

"Every second we battle is agony for her. I'm literally ripping apart her soul, piece by piece," she spoke slowly, eyes dark and mocking.

"Stop," he growled.

"But you can stop this, Killian. That dagger in your hands. Take it, and push it into her chest. Right here," she pointed to her ribcage, "End her pain. She is losing the fight anyway. It's inevitable."

"Then I end the fight for you, too. You become the dark one within me and she dies anyway. Why would I take such an offer?" he snarled.

"When you are the dark one, you can bring her back," she told him lightly.

He paused at that, knowing that he shouldn't be listening to anything this _thing_ was saying. But what if he could save her?

As soon as the thought entered his mind, there was a loud grunt from the woman before him, as she convulsed. Suddenly, the red was gone from her eyes again, and the smirk was replaced by panic.

"It's lying, Killian," she cried out, clutching her abdomen in pain, "you won't be able to bring me back. And even if I lose and it takes over, you'll have the dagger. You'll be safe, that's all that matters."

She groaned in pain, her eyes scrunching shut as she fell to her knees. He lurched forward, dropping to crouch in front of her and reaching for her desperately.

"No, get back," she cried out, pushing him away, "keep the dagger away. It wants the dagger."

Her hands reached up to clutch the sides of her head as she whimpered in pain.

"Emma, you have to keep fighting," he implored softly, remaining crouched at her level but keeping the distance she needed.

"I don't know if I can," she sobbed. The brokenness of her voice had his heart clenching furiously in his chest.

"You have to," he whispered, setting the dagger down behind him out of her reach, and extending his hand to pull one of hers away from her temple.

She didn't resist this time, her hand gladly entwining with his as her green eyes met his blue.

"Killian," she whispered as a tear rolled down her cheek. She squeezed his fingers desperately, and he fought the intense need to wrap her in his arms.

Suddenly, her eyes changed from tired and sad, to wide and fearful.

"Killian, the dagger!" she shouted suddenly.

Before he could react, her eyes regained that ring of red, her face morphed into a vicious sneer, and her hand tightened unbearably on his own. He forced out a cry of pain, as the pressure on his fingers grew unbearable. The last thing he felt before the blackness engulfed him was a sharp jolt of power from her hand to his, propelling him backwards as his head thumped unceremoniously against the hard wooden floor.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Here's the final part! Thanks for all the follows and faves, I'm glad some of you have gotten some enjoyment out of this!**

 **Please leave a review and let me know what you thought…even the negative ones make me weirdly happy, and lord knows I need some happiness with my university finals fast approaching!**

 **Enjoy! Peace out!**

Chapter 3

"We should go check on Killian," Henry said.

The morning light was just starting to seep through the curtains, but not one of them had slept a wink. They'd talked and talked, trying to come up with some way of dealing with the situation, but they all knew that all they could do was wait.

They had talked about the possibility of finding the sorcerer, Merlin, but the Apprentice had no idea where to find him, and they had no way of knowing where to start. Belle had been sent to the library to look for some answers, but it would take time.

"You're right, I'll go with you," David told the boy, standing up and clapping him on the shoulder.

"Be careful," Snow said softly, her voice hoarse from the tears she'd shed for her daughter.

"Always are," David answered, before following Henry to the door.

They walked side by side to the docks, and watched the sun peak over the buildings as it rose in the early morning sky.

"You think he's OK?" Henry asked his Grandfather.

"I hope so," David answered honestly.

"He really loves her," Henry said gently.

"Yeah," David agreed reluctantly, "I think he does."

David's eyes watched Henry as the boy fell silent.

"She'll be OK, you know," David said, his hand once again falling to Henry's shoulder.

"I know," Henry forced a smile, meeting David's gaze, "What kind of truest believer would I be if I didn't believe in my own Mother."

David laughed gently.

When they reached the docks, there was no sign of Killian. They climbed aboard the Jolly Roger, heading toward the steps down the Captain's quarters.

"Killian?" Henry called out.

There was no answer, even as he stood at the top of the steep steps and called again.

The boy frowned. Even if Killian had been asleep, it wasn't like him to sleep through any kind of noise. He'd told Henry once that he'd always been a light sleeper, needing to wake up to the smallest sound of enemies boarding his ship back in his pirating days.

He clambered down the steps into the dark room. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, before he noticed Killian's form, flat on his back on the floor.

"Grandpa!" Henry shouted up through the hole, running towards the pirate and falling to his knees beside him.

"Killian, wake up," Henry shouted, shaking Killian by his lapels.

The pirate's eyes fluttered open as he struggled to focus them on the boy leant over him.

"Henry?" he mumbled dazedly. He heard footsteps to his right as David clattered down into the room.

"What happened?" Henry asked, and Killian's brow furrowed as he tried to remember.

"Killian," David started carefully, "where's the dagger?"

Killian's eyes suddenly flew wide open as he bolted upright.

"Killian, where is it?" David said urgently.

"She…" he started, "She took it."

* * *

Emma felt her body land back on the forest floor, though she currently had no control over her movements. But she felt a piercing hot anger running through her.

"You hurt him," she growled.

 _It_ cackled menacingly in her ears.

"I needed the dagger, my dear," _It_ told her matter-of-factly.

"If you hurt them…" she started to threaten.

"You'll do, what, exactly?" _It's_ voice answered mockingly.

She knew there was nothing she could say in response. If _It_ took over her body for good, she'd be dead, with no way to save those she loved.

She could feel the battle between their magic raging on, feeling each blow the darkness dealt to her. Despite the pain, it just filled her with more anger.

"They'll find a way to destroy you," she snarled, "if I die, they won't let you live."

"I'd like to see them try," _It_ growled back daringly.

"You underestimate them," Emma answered confidently, "they all have each other, but you have no one."

"Except your pirate," _It_ challenged, and it knew it had hit a nerve, "he will have nobody when you're gone. He'll be the weak, drunk, lonely fool he's always been."

"No, he has my family."

 _It_ laughed insidiously.

"You think your Mother and Father will bother with him when you're gone? He's nothing but a "filthy pirate", as your Father once said. No, they will want nothing more to do with him. And not only that, your death will tear them all apart. Your son will lose his Mother. Your parents will blame that Evil Queen. They'll all turn on each other, looking for someone to blame. It's what you people _always_ do, with your weak emotions and fear." _It_ spat out in disgust.

"You're wrong," Emma answered, "You know nothing of people; you can see only the worst. I know the feeling."

"Yes, you do," _It_ agreed, "And why wouldn't you? People have let you down for your entire worthless life. Even now, they can't save you. They _won't_ save you. Right now even, at this very moment, they are all sat together, just waiting for your demise. They know you can't win. You know it, too."

"Maybe I can't," she replied, finally feeling the pain and exhaustion pushing her to the edge, and knowing that she was so close to defeat, "but I can still protect them."

One last time, she pushed hard with her magic, gasping as she felt her body come back under her control, flexing her fingers around the dagger. She could feel the ache in her bones from the on going battle, but she couldn't give in yet; she had to give them the dagger. If there was one last thing she could do to save them, she had to try.

She felt the wave of grey smoke engulf her as she wished herself back to the town.

* * *

Killian felt lost as the trio walked back to the loft together. He stared at his feet as they moved across the concrete, feeling the fight ebbing away from him second by second. He knew he should feel bad about the dagger because it meant the Dark One would be a danger to them all, but truly, he felt bad because now he had no way of summoning her. He had no way to see her. And that crushed him more than he could have imagined.

David had called the others at the loft, and they planned to meet at Granny's for coffee, and to figure out a way of getting the dagger back. Killian looked up, and he could see them waiting down the street for them. He inwardly scowled; the last thing he wanted right now was to see people. He just wanted to sit in a dark corner, rum flask in hand, and feel sorry for himself. Actually, right now all he really wanted was _her_.

As they approached the diner, there was a sudden _whoosh_ from the street behind him, and he turned his head slowly.

She was there.

She stumbled toward him, dagger in hand, and it was _her._

"Mom?" Henry called questioningly.

Her eyes met Killian's as she collapsed to the floor, and before he knew it, he was running to her.

He skidded to his knees beside her, not caring that the material shredded open under his kneecaps. He pulled her to him, cradling her in his arms, her head rested in the crook of his left elbow while his right hand came up to rest against her cheek.

She gazed up at him, her eyes glazed over and unfocussed, but watching him all the same as her lips formed a pained grimace.

"Emma," he whispered, his thumb tracing the curve of her bottom lip.

"Killian," she answered quietly, "Killian, it's taking over. It's winning, I can't…"

"No," he silenced her, "don't give up, Swan."

Killian felt Henry drop to the floor across from him.

"Mom," Henry sobbed, taking her hand in his own.

"Henry, I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice growing weaker with each breath.

"Please, don't give up," he begged her, "I believe in you. You're stronger than this."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," she told him, a tear rolling from her eye and back into her hair, "I love you so much."

"I love you, Mom," Henry whispered as he brought his head down to her hand, burying is face against her knuckles.

Her eyes fell back on Killian's, and he swallowed thickly, feeling the moisture burn in the corner of his eyes.

"Please, Swan," he whispered, not trusting his voice, "I need you."

Through the pain he saw in her eyes, she managed a sad smile, and it made his heart ache unbearably. And then as quick as it appeared, the smile was gone, replaced with clenched teeth as her eyes screwed shut and she let out a moan of agony. He clutched her closer to him.

"I can feel it taking over," she grunted out, her body tense.

"Don't give up," he whispered, bringing his forehead down to hers, "please, don't give up."

"I meant it, when I said I love you," she whispered desperately, "I need you to know that."

"I know," he forced a sad smile, "I love you, too."

He lifted his head slightly to look into her eyes, and he watched as a tear from his own dropped onto her cheek. Her eyes started to close, as the brightness seemed to begin fade, and he knew he couldn't watch the moment that the red returned to her irises.

He closed his eyes and dropped his face close to hers, feeling her ragged breaths ghost across his lips. And knowing that it would be the last time, he gently pressed his lips against hers.

He could feel all the love he had ever felt for her pouring out into the kiss, every happy memory they'd ever made together replaying in his mind. He could see beanstalks, and that first kiss in Neverland. He saw dancing at her first royal ball, and kissing in the luminescence of the Granny's Diner neon sign. Their first date, and that first night of passion in his hotel room, after she'd pushed his heart back into his chest and he'd felt so overwhelmed with affection for this amazing, impossible woman. He remembered the feeling of her arms wrapping around him, crashing into him and knocking him over when she'd found him again after he'd died for her. He felt it all in this kiss, as the tears crept uncontrolled from his closed eyelids, and rolled down his cheeks.

And then suddenly his lips felt hot, impossibly hot. Her lips seared against his, but he couldn't bring himself to pull back.

The heat grew and grew, hotter and hotter. And then he saw light behind his eyelids, white and intense and burning painlessly through him. And then there was a spark, emanating from their joined lips, and it pulsed out through him and into the air around them, and all at once he and Henry were propelled back by some unseen force, clattering to their backs some metres from Emma's still form.

He sat up sharply, eyes wide as the white lights continued to grow, emitting from Emma's entire body. Her eyes were shut, her face expressionless as if she were sleeping, but the light grew in intensity, and he lifted his arm to shield his eyes.

In a flash, a haze of black smoke rose from her chest, writhing above her like tentacles, reaching for the sky. It was followed by softer strings of white-silver smoke, which wrapped around the blackness. The silver smoke grew and grew, larger and larger until it engulfed the blackness, shrouding it in light.

A banshee shriek from no particular source filled the air around them, and Killian reached up to cover his ears.

And then, with a crack like thunder and a flash of light so bright that he had to look away, the air was silent again.

Blinking past his dazzled vision, he watched as the silver smoke curled back down towards Emma's body, with no trace of the black smoke to be seen. When it disappeared, sucked back into her body, they all remained motionless, eyes wide and mouths agape, as Emma remained unmoving.

Killian couldn't breathe as he looked on, waiting for _something_ , though he didn't know what. Every muscle in his body was tense as the seconds stretched on.

And then Emma gasped in a breath, eyes flying open, as green as they'd always been and not a trace of red. She sat up immediately, looking around in confusion until her eyes met his.

He stared back, disbelieving, unable to move.

And then she smiled at him. Not the sinister smirk the Dark One had given him, but her genuine, beautiful, perfect smile.

And then he was moving, scrambling forward to her and barrelling into her seated form, knocking her onto her back and burying his face in her neck. She laughed heartily, and he thought it was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard.

He felt another set of arms wrap around them as another body joined the pile. Henry.

Killian pulled back, hauling her up with him and pulling her into his lap, wrapping one arm around her and pulling Henry in against them with his other.

When Killian managed to find his voice, he pulled his head back from her shoulder to look into her eyes.

"What happened?" he asked softly.

"True love's kiss," Henry answered them, grinning.

"Emma is the product of true love," Regina's voice came from behind them, and they slowly clambered messily to their feet in a tangle of limbs, "her magic is made of love itself."

"True love's kiss is the most powerful thing in the world," Henry continued, understanding what Regina was implying, "It made your magic unstoppable, even for the Dark One."

Killian swallowed, his eyes falling back to Emma's in disbelief as she smiled gently at him.

Suddenly, Snow and David barrelled into them, and Killian and Henry stepped back as the parents engulfed their daughter in a hug.

Killian clapped Henry on the shoulder as they looked on, and Henry turned to him, flinging his arms around the pirate in a fierce hug.

Killian stumbled back from the force of it, laughing slightly in confusion but wrapping his arms around the boy all the same.

"Thank you," Henry mumbled over Killian's shoulder, "you saved her."

Henry pulled back, and Killian nodded, still not believing what had transpired just minutes ago.

Killian's eyes fell upon the dagger at their feet, and he bent to pick it up. As his fingers went to wrap around the hilt, the entire object shattered, turning to dust under his hand.

He stood back up as Snow and David pulled back from their daughter, and his eyes fell back on hers, blue on green. His feet moved of their own accord, and once again he was wrapped in her embrace, foreheads together and noses touching gently.

"I think I was wrong," he whispered, a hint of humour in his voice.

"About what?" she asked, smiling broadly.

"About me being the survivor," he answered, "I think maybe you've earned that title."

"I guess that makes you my saviour," she answered.

He felt nothing but peace as he brought his lips forward to meet hers, and he allowed himself to believe, truly believe for the first time, that maybe he'd get to keep his happy ending after all.


End file.
